Dept. Q starts quietly. There’s no rush. No heavy exposition in the first five minutes. Just this slow, steady movement that pulls things forward without saying much. Some shows throw everything at the screen right away. This one doesn’t. It leans into silence. Into looks, into pauses. That’s where the tension begins.
And then, the faces. That’s when something shifts. They feel familiar. Not all of them, but enough. It's that strange moment when the mind starts working in the background. Trying to remember. Not sure where from. Just a sense that these actors have been seen somewhere before.
This familiarity isn’t accidental. The cast of Dept. Q isn’t made up of flashy stars, but rather performers who’ve been doing strong work for a while. Some in small roles. Some in bigger ones. Together, they bring something specific to the story. Not just experience, but restraint. And that fits perfectly with the tone of the series.
The lead moves through silence
Matthew Goode plays Carl Morck, a detective carrying some weight that’s never clearly explained. It doesn’t need to be. His presence says enough. Goode has appeared in period dramas like The Crown and Downton Abbey. Also in A Discovery of Witches, where he brought a certain old-world stillness to the screen. In The Imitation Game, his performance balanced intelligence with just the right amount of distance. He’s good at that. At keeping emotion barely visible, like it’s been packed away.
In Dept. Q, Carl Morck doesn’t talk much. Not more than necessary. His expression is often unreadable. But that’s part of the point. He’s not here to be understood right away. He’s here to dig through things no one wants to look at. That takes a certain kind of actor, and Goode fits that space.

Tension beneath the surface
Chloe Pirrie plays Merritt Lingard, a character who seems to hold more than she says. There’s something about her performances that always feels held back. In The Queen’s Gambit and War & Peace, and even in that older Black Mirror episode with the animated politician, she showed that ability. To suggest more than the scene requires. She doesn’t rush a moment. Her presence gives the feeling that something is waiting underneath.
Dept. Q gives her space to do that again. She moves through scenes with that same careful energy. Not passive, not cold. Just measured. As if everything she does is being considered twice before being done at all.
Controlled intensity
Alexej Manvelov plays Akram. His character carries tension quietly. That’s a pattern in his work. In Chernobyl, he wasn’t loud, but he was present. The same in Jack Ryan and other Nordic shows he’s done. He often plays men who’ve seen too much and who don’t explain themselves.
In Dept. Q, his performance follows the same path. His silence feels earned. His words, when they come, don’t waste time. There’s a sense that Akram could disappear into the background at any moment but doesn’t. He stays just long enough to be felt.

Familiar faces with sharp edges
Kate Dickie is part of the cast too. She brings a very particular kind of presence. Those who watched Game of Thrones will remember her as Lysa Arryn, unpredictable and unsettling. She was also in The Witch and The Green Knight. Her performances tend to leave an impression. In Dept. Q, that remains true. Her scenes are few, but there’s a pressure when she’s on screen.
Kelly Macdonald, also part of the cast, has that same understated impact. Trainspotting, No Country for Old Men, and Line of Duty—she’s done all of them. Her work rarely draws attention to itself, but it stays. In this show, her role adds a softer texture to a story that’s otherwise full of hard edges.
Jamie Sives plays Hardy, someone closely tied to Carl. Their dynamic is heavy with things left unsaid. He’s been in Annika and Guilt, shows that also leaned into emotional complexity. Here, he gives the impression of someone who’s carrying too much and doesn’t quite know what to do with it.
Then there’s Leah Byrne. Not as widely known, but with solid work in Call the Midwife and Deadwater Fell. She brings a kind of fragile focus to her role. Enough to leave an impression even when the scene is crowded.
Moments that sit longer than expected
Dept. Q doesn’t push for big emotional releases. What it does instead is linger. It holds on to stillness. A room. A shadow. A half-open door. One moment stays longer than it should. And that’s where it finds its rhythm.
Shirley Henderson appears in one part of the show. Her voice, her eyes, the way she moves—it’s all distinct. Many might remember her from Harry Potter. She brings that same strange pull into this story, even if just for a scene or two.
Why the cast of Dept. Q fits the silence
Some shows depend on actors to explain the plot. This one doesn't. Dept. Q depends on them to hold it. To keep it from slipping too far into action or noise. The actors seem to know when to stop and when to pause. And that’s harder than it looks.
What holds the show together isn’t just the script. It’s the way these performers understand how little is sometimes enough. They don’t fill every silence. They leave space. That makes the story breathe.

What might come next
Dept. Q is based on books by Jussi Adler-Olsen. The first season adapts just one of them. Which means there’s room for more. Nothing official has been said about future seasons. But the structure allows it. New cases, new layers, same quiet approach.
The full first season is already out. All episodes are available. No need to wait. Whether watched quickly or one at a time, the series holds steady. It doesn’t demand attention. It just earns it.
And after it ends
Not everything is resolved. Some questions stay. Some characters don’t explain themselves. That’s part of the point. Dept. Q chooses to stay quiet where other shows would speak. It leaves space for the viewer to fill. And in doing that, it lingers longer than expected.
Maybe that’s what gives it weight. Not the answers, but the silence it doesn’t break.